


A Bizarre Attraction

by IsThisNameTaken



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asshole mystery ex, Attempt at a meet-cute, Fluff with a splash of violence, Lovable dope Steve Rogers, M/M, MI6 Bucky, Prompt Fic, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Scam caller Steve, obvious flirting, occasional profanity, revenge porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsThisNameTaken/pseuds/IsThisNameTaken
Summary: Bucky gets a scam phone call and decides to turn it into an opportunity.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	A Bizarre Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> My friend sent me this Tumblr [Scam Call Prompt](https://mitarashiko.tumblr.com/post/628245649730732032/answered-a-scam-call-today-and-had-the-most?fbclid=IwAR3VrzuKjmLVzs-Je6GJhclvIBuhXhziUbVQvOk7W8MK5hXs-NWivZUC-w0) . I couldn't help but picture Steve and Bucky in this scenario, so I wrote it. Trigger warning for revenge porn.

* * *

The phone call made Bucky jump. He was perfectly happy mindlessly scrolling through social media, and now his landline was screaming for attention. 

Hoisting himself up off the couch, Bucky approached the offending device. Who even used landlines nowadays? The number was blocked. He figured if it were anyone important, they would have called his mobile. Not that he got a whole lot of calls these days, being a former MI6 agent. 

The answering machine beeped. “ _Um, Mr Barnes, I am calling on behalf of your internet provider. We have detected a problem. I am obliged to call until you answer as it is an urgent issue. Um, okay. I’ll try again in a few minutes.”_ The caller hung up. He had an American accent; Bucky wondered why an American would bother calling so far afield. Surely there were enough idiots in America to scam.

Bucky stood there, dumbfounded. A smile spread across his lips. He understood that people in general appeared to be getting more stupid every second, but _this_? Who, outside of dementia patients, would fall for this shit?

He turned, preparing to move on with his day. The lawn needed mowing. He had bills to pay. He hadn’t even put his prosthetic on yet. The left sleeve of his PJ top swung by his side. 

But damn, that scammer sounded cute. 

He sounded like the kind of guy who pretended he was all tough and butch, but really, he loved bubble baths and still kept his treasured Pokemon card collection from his childhood. 

Bucky could go for some strange. 

He made himself a cup of coffee and returned to the living room to await the scammer’s next attempt. Sure enough, a few moments later, the landline sprang to life again. This time, Bucky answered immediately. “Hello?”

The same deep voice as before seemed surprised. “Ah - h-hello, how are you today?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, smile still lingering on his lips. “I’m great, thanks.”

“Good,” The voice had regained some confidence now, but he still sounded like he was reading from a script. He probably was. “I’m calling because our system has detected that your IP address has been compromised. I’ll just need you to get in front of your computer so we can get your account all fixed.”

Bucky suppressed a laugh. Of all the suckers on this planet, this poor sod had to call _his_ house. “Okay,” He began, “But there is one thing I’m wondering.”

The caller hesitated. “What?”

Ok, he couldn’t feign ignorance any longer. “You really couldn’t think of a better lie?” Bucky could practically _hear_ the caller’’s pulse escalating. He imagined the latter starting to sweat as he fumbled for a lifeline. “...Uh…”

_Sorry buddy, looks like you’re going to drown_ , Bucky thought to himself. “That has to be one of the worst attempts I’ve ever heard. ‘My IP address has been compromised’. Tell me, how exactly does an IP address become ‘compromised’?”

Poor guy was really floundering. “W-well-”

Bucky chuckled lightly. “I was just wondering, that’s all.”

A few more seconds of silence. Then: “Why did you answer?”

Bucky frowned. “What?”

“If you knew it wasn’t a legitimate call, then why did you answer?”

Bucky’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” He confessed, “I just thought I’d have some fun at your expense.” Now the voice sounded defensive. “What expense? Talking is no expense to me.”  
  


“Well, you’re currently not accomplishing your goal. That’s expense enough for me,” Bucky allowed himself a smirk and wished the mystery scammer could see it. “My goal?” The scammer seemed intrigued by the direction in which the conversation was headed. 

“Yeah, your goal to scam me. You probably thought that I was an old man. Which I actually understand; if I saw anyone named James Buchanan Barnes, I also might presume he was born in the forties. Either way, I’d say thwarting your goal is an expense.”

To Bucky’s surprise, the scammer sighed. He actually _sighed_. “Well,” He broached cautiously, “can I scam you?”

Bucky barked a laugh, seating himself in his armchair by the window. “Did you- did you just ask if you can scam me?”

The caller seemed to have given up every hope, but Bucky hoped he was secretly having fun, too. “Yes. So can I scam you?”

“Sure, you can try.”

“You need to get in front of your computer.” Bucky sank lower into the cushions. “Yeah, about that. I just sat down, and I really don’t feel like getting up anytime soon.”  
  


Another sigh, but this time, Bucky thought he heard a faint laugh. Whoever this guy was, he sounded downright adorable. “Okay. I will call you tomorrow morning, then.”

“I might not answer. In fact, I definitely won’t.”

“You answered today.”  
  


Bucky pursed his lips. “Touché.”

“I will call you tomorrow. Have a good day-”

“Wait,” Bucky sat forwards. “Are you being forced to scam people? Because honestly, you don’t seem like the type.”

The caller scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but, I can read people pretty well. Even if I can’t see them. And I may be able to help you if you are being coerced.” 

The pause told Bucky that the scammer would be easy to crack. “C’mon,” He encouraged gently, “You seem like a nice guy. A genuine guy. What’s a genuine guy doing trying to scam innocent old people out of their pensions?”

“...My friends begged me to,” The scammer admitted; the shame was evident in his tone. “They tried to get a startup going, but it went bust and they’re left with a ton of debt. They kept nagging me to help them get some funds together.”

Bucky nodded to himself. _Gotcha_. “I see. They don’t sound like real friends, Mister - hey, you never introduced yourself. What’s your name?”

“Nice try. I’m not identifying myself. Look, I’m sorry I tried to scam you, okay? I’ll leave you alone now.” For some reason, Bucky really didn’t want that. He was enjoying chatting to this mystery man. “What, no other strategies up your sleeve?”

The scammer chuckled, slightly more relaxed, and Bucky’s heart began to melt. “None that you’d fall for. Good day, Mr Barnes.”

He hung up before Bucky could interrupt. “Damn.” He looked over to his long-haired white cat, Alpine, who was chilling on the arm of the couch. “He was cute.”

* * *

“Hello? Bucky?”

“Hey, Nat. I need a favour.”

Natasha Romanov made an exasperated noise from the other end. “You’re not supposed to call this number.”

"You always ignore my calls on the other one.”

She chuckled. “Yeah that’s why I gave it to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky held the phone between his shoulder and ear as he opened a tin of cat food. “I met a guy.”

He could imagine her raising an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“...I need you to get his number for me.”

“No.”

“...Please.”

“Buck, I work in MI6 international communications. I am not a matchmaker.”

“You could be; believe in yourself. The number was blocked.” He heard her shift in her seat and the cacophony of his old workplace in the background. “You can’t trace it yourself?”

“Not my area of expertise. And I figured, MI6 has been keeping track of me ever since I was discharged, so you could probably find out who it was. Pretty easily, I’d imagine.” She groaned in mock annoyance. At least, Bucky willed it to be mock annoyance. “...I’ll get back to you after I’m done at work. How come you didn’t ask him when you met him, anyway?”

“Oh, I just spoke to him this morning. He called and tried to scam me.”

“ _What_ -?”

“Okay thanks bye Nat.” He hung up before she could berate him. But he knew she’d still do it; she was just as curious as he was, now. And Bucky would totally fly out to the United States if it meant finding the owner of that melodic voice.

* * *

Steve had just got home from work when his phone buzzed. He didn’t immediately recognise the number, but answered anyway.

“Steven Grant Rogers.”

His heart hit the floor and Steve felt his body grow cold. “What the hell.” He knew that voice. Was that the charming guy he’d tried to scam this morning? What _the hell_?

“What the hell,” He breathed again, backing up against his front door.

The other guy- Barnes - laughed. “It’s okay, I’m not going to rat you out.” Steve forced himself to regulate his breathing. “That...sounds like something someone who was going to rat me out would say,” He replied warily. “How did you find me?”

“Well, let’s just say that you should vet your targets more thoroughly,” Barnes answered. “All I had to do was...compromise your IP address. Yours was very easy to track. VPNs exist, you know.”

“I, um…” Steve’s mind was blank. As strange as this situation was, he couldn’t help feeling excited that he got to talk to this man again. Now Barnes sounded slightly concerned. “I’ve frightened you,” He realised. “I didn’t mean to. Look, Steve - can I call you Steve? Are you standing up? You should sit down, relax a minute.”

Steve did as advised, grateful for something solid to take his weight. He collapsed onto his sofa, keys jangling in his pocket. “If...if you’re not going to rat me out,” He began, “then why call me?”

Barnes thought about that. “Because I wanted to talk to you again,” He stated. 

Steve’s heart jumped for a completely different reason this time. God, this must have been the dumbest thing he’d ever tried. His hands were shaking. Screw his friends for guilt-tripping him into this in the first place. Except Sam. Sam had tried to talk him out of it. But also he sent an inaudible thank you to those same friends, as Barnes’ gruff voice crept into his ear once more. “Are you ok now?”

“I think so. I suppose I’ve got no choice but to take your word on this.”

“Pretty much.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Um, so, does this mean you know where I live?”

“It does.”

“Oh, crap.”

“Well hey, you know where I live, so now we’re even.” Another light chuckle. Barnes was enjoying this. Steve smiled in spite of himself. “I guess so. Are you some kind of assassin or something? Gonna tell me I picked on the wrong man?”

He heard Barnes’ wry smile as he answered: “Not quite. Just a man with useful connections. Not a mob boss, before you ask. But I couldn’t not follow up; this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in a while.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You must lead a monotonous life, Mr Barnes.”

“I do at the moment. But truth be told I find you interesting.”

“You’re a very direct man.”

“I’ve been through too much shit to waste time with pretences and small-talk.” Barnes sighed, conflicted. “I thought you were cute this morning.”

That caught Steve off-guard. He leaned his head against the headrest, staring at the ceiling as his face flushed red. No one had ever been this upfront with him before (well, no one sober, anyway. He got hit on by drunk people every time he set foot in a club). He was torn between being flattered and the idea of Mr Barnes smashing through his window, coming to teach the would-be scammer a lesson.

At least in that scenario he would get to meet him in person. _No, Steve, this is not the time for silver linings_ , he chastised himself. 

“Steve?”

“O-oh! I’m still here. Just...yeah, processing,” He swallowed. “Haven’t met a man who so readily admits his interest in other men. I could be completely straight for all you know.” 

“It’s 2019; no one under the age of 30 is completely straight. And as I said, I like being concise. We only live a few hours apart.”

Steve sat back up, a hand running down his face. “Hang on. This is - so - this is all so weird. How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” Barnes hummed. “You don’t. If it helps, I was going to suggest a public meeting place. If you do want to meet, that is.”

The blonde man had to laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Mr Barnes, did you just turn a scam-call into a _date_?”

Barnes sounded rather pleased with himself. “That depends on your answer, Mr Rogers.”

* * *

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. He decided that he loved it when Steve called him ‘Mr Barnes’. Apparently his authority kink was just as much of an issue in his personal life as it had been at work. 

He ran his hand down the length of his prosthetic. It was a metal arm, attached at the shoulder. He had a flesh-coloured false skin sleeve, but he preferred the cyborg look. It certainly matched his shaggy, shoulder-length hair, and the bags under his eyes. Who could have guessed that getting your arm shot off in action would result in a year-long compassionate leave?

‘Leave’. Bucky knew they probably wouldn’t take him back; there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. His prosthetic was not of the highest standard - it could bend at the wrist and elbow, slowly grip objects, turn doorknobs, and such, but it couldn’t do complex movement. Typing was a real bitch. And if he couldn’t even be a pencil-pusher, what use was he to a spy organisation?

He wondered what Steve would make of his arm. 

They had agreed to meet in a cafe, in a town which lay between their respective addresses. A cafe had seemed appropriate: not as much pressure as a restaurant, and not as casual as a fast food place. 

A date. That’s what Steve had called it. This Saturday. 10 AM. Only two days away. Alpine jumped up onto his lap. He stroked behind her ears and she responded by massaging his abdomen with her paws. He resolved to do some online research about Rogers. Opening several social media apps, he typed in his name, praying that there would be some good results. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Nat had given him Rogers' Facebook page along with his mobile number, so he knew which Steve Rogers account to look for, but he hadn’t properly explored it yet. 

Oh. He scrolled through rows and rows of images, statuses, and tweets.

_Oh God_.

He was a fitness instructor. A gym guy with an apparently strong sense of justice, and a penchant for sharing wholesome memes. 

Bucky pulled up one of his profile pictures: it was a photo taken of Rogers whilst he deadlifted at his local fitness centre. In it, Rogers’ gaze was firmly fixed on the ground as he concentrated, cheered on by a few spectators, bulging arms supporting the heavily-weighted bar. No wonder everyone heart-reacted his updates. The next picture he had posted after that was of a sickeningly sugary-looking waffle, heaped with fresh fruit, ice cream, whipped cream, and crushed peanuts. The caption read: _Post-workout sweet treat! <3 _.

Actually, scrolling through the past few months, there were rather a lot of sweet treats. The man had a sweet tooth; of course he fucking did.

A beautiful specimen, and he was just gullible enough to meet a complete stranger he'd tried to con. Bucky felt his pulse quicken. Alpine begin to purr as he stroked her fur. “I am in trouble, Alps.”

* * *

Bucky stood in front of the cafe. It was quainter than expected. At least, he thought so - there were lots of decorations, including hanging baskets, local artwork, and potted plants. Yeah, quaint. That seemed like the right adjective. 

He hoped that his choice of clothing was alright. He hadn't wanted to waste hours fussing over it, so he'd gone with a grey longsleeve, loose navy jeans, trainers and his trusty leather jacket. After some deliberation, he’d chosen to wear the false skin sleeve.

He daren’t enter yet. Steve had said he would let him know when he arrived.

His phone rang. 

“Steve?”

“Are you coming in at some point?” 

Bucky scanned inside the cafe, but due to the reflection in the windows he couldn’t spot him. He squinted at the glass nevertheless. “You said you’d let me know when you got here.”

Clearly some of Steve’s confidence had restored itself since their last chat. “Yeah but you didn’t even see me come in, and it took me a while to understand that the man awkwardly loitering outside was you.”

Bucky tried to suppress a smile, tried turning it into a cool smirk, but it didn’t work. “I can’t see you yet. It shouldn’t be this hard to spot a six foot, blonde beefcake. All squashed up in a booth, you must look like Mr Incredible when he jams himself into his car.”

A chuckle from the other end. “Ooh, a compliment _and_ a Disney-Pixar reference. I think we’re going to get along. I’m sat near the archway.”

Bucky hung up and went inside, explaining to the friendly waitress that the person he came to meet was already there. Then he spotted him: Steve had indeed squished himself into a corner booth next to a small stone archway which was covered in clematis. Steve stood up, knocking the menus over as he did. For a second he looked like he might bail.

"What to do about pleasantries," Bucky commented as he approached, "a handshake feels too formal, but a hug is too intimate. How about a high five?"

Steve narrowed his eyes and offered his right hand. "Handshake is fine." Bucky shook his hand and they seated themselves. Steve put his forearms on the table and clasped his hands. “You know, I half expected to get stood up.”

Bucky put a hand to his heart. “Ouch. I guess I can understand that.”

Steve had stunning azure eyes. Kind eyes. And a brilliant smile. Bucky realised that he hadn’t shaved this morning; he hoped the stubble would create a kind of rugged, windswept look. 

“But here I am.”

Steve caught his gaze. “Here you are.” He sat back, grabbing the menu. “You do seem to match the brief description you gave me, anyhow. You're not on any social media." Unbeknownst to Steve, there were several good reasons for that.

Bucky nodded, "Glad you don't feel catfished."

Steve smiled, uncertain, and glanced over the menu. "Uh, are you - what are you getting?” He suddenly held up a hand. “Don’t tell me,” He grinned, “you seem like the type to order a black coffee. No sugar. And you somehow survive on that exclusively for up to three days at a time, whereby you finally give in and buy yourself a ready meal.” He tilted his head. “Am I close?”

Bucky hated how close he was. It was his dream to survive exclusively on black coffee - though he did occasionally add milk and sugar - but his body demanded actual sustenance. Especially when he was training. 

The dark-haired man shook his head lightly. “I’m upset that you would box me in like that. I’ll probably get a hot chocolate.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “You want whipped cream?”

Bucky wasn’t fond of hot chocolate, but he figured it was worth it to defy Steve’s expectations. “Sure,” He said, fishing out his wallet. “It’s on me,” Steve said as he went to approach the counter. “Consider it an apology for, you know, the whole scam thing.”

Bucky tried his best not to look the other man up and down as he walked away, he really did. But he couldn’t help admiring Steve’s sculpted shoulders and strong back, which were easily visible despite his hoodie. He probably had a nice butt. 

Don’t look. 

...Yeah.

It was a great butt. Probably the best butt in America.

Bucky placed the menu upright so that it blocked his view, forcing himself to peruse the meal options. A few moments later, two cups of hot chocolate, piled high with whipped cream, were set down on their table.

Bucky regarded Steve.

“I was going to get one, anyway,” He explained, bringing the cup to his clean-shaven face.

“Sure you were. Not trying to placate me or anything.”

“Of course not.”

Bucky used his spoon to carve out a passage in the mountain of cream through which he could sip the drink. Thankfully it wasn’t too sweet. He was about to say as much when he looked over at Steve and-

“How many sugar sachets have you added?” 

Steve paused, fingers ready to rip open another sachet. “Two.”

“Bullshit.”

“Three?”

Bucky looked at him. “Are you a five-year-old trapped in a man’s body?”

Steve put the unopened sachet back. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” He winced as he said it.

“I know. I couldn’t help looking through your socials once I knew your name. It’s a miracle you’ve kept your physique.” Steve looked away, embarrassed. “You find me even cuter now, huh?” Bucky willed his cheeks not to redden, but redden they did. He went back to stirring the cream into the beverage. “I’m certainly not complaining. You know, with a baby face like yours, you should try door-to-door scams. I’d wager there are very few people who could turn you down,” He took another sip.

The blonde man looked contemplative. “I can’t tell whether you’re giving me advice or mocking me.”

Bucky lifted his cup as if making a toast. “Behold, my conversational ambiguity.” That got a laugh from Steve and Bucky's stomach did a little flip.

“Though I was surprised to discover that you have a job,” Bucky continued, “most scammers seem to be between jobs or perpetually unemployed. Why not lend your friends the money they need?”

“Because I don’t have a spare 20 grand lying around,” Steve replied offhandedly, “and because the last thing they want is more debt. Besides, I decided to distance myself from them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you were right. No blackmail is worth stealing some old codger’s heard-earned pension.” Bucky cocked his head, voice low. “Blackmail? They’re blackmailing you?”

Steve’s brow furrowed in concern, knowing he’d said too much. “Not- not when I called you. Before, they were just pestering me. After I hung up, I told them I was done with it. One of them is an ex of mine, and they said they have, uh…” He broke eye contact again, chewing his lip. “They have explicit videos of me. They said if I don’t help them, they’ll post them to porn sites.”

Rage boiled in Bucky’s gut. He clenched his jaw. He barely knew this man, yet he wanted so badly to defend him. “Steve,” He said through gritted teeth, his long hair hiding most of his snarl, “you have to stop calling them your friends. Have you reported them? Maybe the police can-”

“They’ve already leaked the videos.”

Bucky’s head snapped up. “How come?” Steve still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I got so angry at them that I said I don’t care if they do it; that I just won’t help them anymore.” Bucky heard the spoon being tapped against the rim of the cup. “I did tell the police, but they weren’t particularly sympathetic. They said I should have accepted the risk in the first place, when I made the content. Plus the threats were verbal; I couldn’t outright prove it was blackmail.”

Bucky wished he could throw his cup against the wall. Flip tables. Yell at strangers. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything. To know that all this had happened within the space of a few days...

“I- I’m sorry,” Steve suddenly interjected, “I didn’t intend to bring up this heavy shit. It’s got nothing to do with you.” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “It does now.”

Steve sighed. “I’ve done everything I can. That was their only bargaining chip, and they’ve used it. I’ve told the cops. I trust they will act when they have enough evidence.”

How lovably naive. Bucky came up with a cold, blunt retort, but it died on his lips the moment he saw the other man’s dejected expression. 

Instead, an idea taketh shape.

“They could at least take the videos down.”

“I tried asking for that yesterday. They forced me out of the building and told me to go fuck myself.” Bucky stood, straightening his jacket. “Well let’s go ask them again.”

Steve sat there, shocked. “I - no. It’s okay, really. I mean, they didn’t send the videos to my work or relatives, at least, so it may never come out. When it does, I can ride it out-”

“Going off your media posts, you care deeply about social injustices and vigilante shit,” Bucky reasoned, “so why not ask again? Come on.” He led the way out of the cafe, trying his hardest not to launch tables and chairs in every direction with a swift kick. The world was unfair. He’d gone out of his way to manufacture a meet-cute scenario with an Adonis, and he’d ended up with a bitter reminder of how shitty people could be. 

He was out on the street by the time Steve caught up to him. 

“James, wait -” Steve pleaded as Bucky turned around. “You can call me Bucky. Most people do.”

“Bucky, what exactly is your plan?” Bucky placed a hand on his hip. “You drive me to your ex's house, and we _politely_ ask them again to take down the videos.” Steve frowned. “Why the emphasis on ‘politely’?”

“Because I don’t plan on being polite if they refuse.”

Steve scoffed, “You can’t just go to someone’s home and beat them up. And for a stranger, no less!” He stepped closer. “Again, you don’t know me.”

Bucky regarded him coolly. “But I want to know you.”

After a few seconds, Steve’s stance relaxed, and he pointed down the road. “Car’s that way.”

They headed off until they reached Steve’s car. 

“You aren’t gonna ask why I didn’t drive here?” Bucky spoke up.

Steve glanced at him. “...I noticed your arm,” He broached carefully as they buckled up, “but I felt uncomfortable bringing it up, so...I didn’t.” Bucky moved the fingers of his prosthetic slightly. “I get that. Ok, then, let’s find this sonofabitch.”

They chatted as they drove, their conversations mostly consisting of ‘how weird is this week’ and ‘are you sure you want to do this’. 

* * *

The journey only took a couple hours, including a couple of rest stops, and Bucky was relieved when he saw the sign for Steve’s town. He hadn’t been here in a few years; it was quite a nice place, with a relatively low crime rate, considering the increasing levels of unemployment. 

He gazed at the bright sunlight streaming down between the grey clouds, making the wet roads glisten. 

“Here we are,” Steve announced, pulling up around the corner from a block of flats. He used the sparse trees as cover. 

Bucky stretched his arm and rolled his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

“And by this,” Steve clarified as he switched off the engine, “you mean ask nicely.”

Cracking his knuckles against his prosthetic hand, Bucky nodded. “Mm-hm.”

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“Ok, I’ll go first.”

“No, let me talk to him-”

That almost went over Bucky’s head. So. His ex was a guy. What a useful piece of trivia. “Alright, you go first. I’ll stand there ominously in the background.”

“Good idea. I notice you haven’t asked his name.”

“Don’t particularly care, if I’m honest, Bucky responded, “I only needed to know what he did.” They headed into the building (Bucky wasn’t surprised by the lack of security) and ascended the stairs until they came to a scruffy door. The paint was chipping away, and the doorframe looked like it had taken more than one beating over its lifetime. 

Bucky briefly wondered whether the lock even worked. 

He saw Steve take a few deep breaths, and rap his knuckles on the door. After a few seconds, the door opened, and a man appeared. Judging by Steve's reaction, it was his ex. An amalgamation of smells wafted out into the hallway: smoke, weed, something sweet, sweat. He was taller than Bucky, which pissed him off, and somewhat handsome, except he looked - and smelled - like he hadn’t showered in three weeks. His hair was greasy, matted atop his head, and tattoos snaked out from under his stained T-shirt. Music was blasting from somewhere in the flat, and Bucky could hear more voices. 

The man looked warily between the two visitors. “Steve,” He greeted. “What’re you back here for? And who’s your friend?”

Steve cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “You need to take down those videos.” There was no mistaking the authority in his tone. “Today.”

The ex sneered. “No I don’t. That’s what you get for leaving us in the lurch.” He stepped closer to Steve and Bucky’s arm twitched instinctively. “Besides, those vids are so hot, they deserve to be shared.”

Steve faltered. Bucky recognised it in his posture, and nudged him aside. “Listen you piece of shit,” He motioned inside the flat, “you’re gonna take every one of those videos down, and you will do it today, otherwise I’ll find a way to make your life even more miserable than it already is.”

The ex shoved Bucky with one hand. “Yeah? Fuck are you gonna do, GI Joe-”

Before he’d finished speaking, Bucky had his Taurus 9mm to the man’s throat. 

“Bucky!”

“I can expose you,” He growled as the man whimpered, “I know people who could dig up everything shameful and dare I say it, illegal, that you have ever done and they would take it all to the police. Or I can kick your ass. _Or_ I can shoot you, but that wouldn’t accomplish our goal right now. So this,” Bucky pressed the gun further into the man’s jugular, “this is to make sure you hear what I’m saying.”

“Bucky, what the fuck,” He heard Steve exclaim.

He remained focused on his captive. “I know nothing can be permanently deleted from the internet, but you’re going to do your damndest to take down as many of those videos as you can. Do you hear what I’m saying?” 

The man nodded enthusiastically. Well, as enthusiastically as one _can_ nod whilst someone has a gun to one’s throat. Beads of perspiration rolled down his temples. 

Slowly, Bucky removed the gun, held it down by his side. Steve stepped closer, clearly unsure what to do.

“I have someone watching you right now,” Bucky added, “so if you call the cops, I’ll know, and you’ll be cold by the time they arrive. You have until tomorrow morning to send Steve proof that you deleted those vids. Oh, and stop the shitty phone scams. Let's go, Steve.” Confident that the man would do as he's told, Bucky turned away. The man’s hand went to his waistband; he lunged at Bucky, who saw him brandish the pocket knife - 

Steve’s fist collided with the man’s face with a sickening crunch; he groaned before collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap, blood trickling from his nose. The people inside - the rest of Steve’s “friends”, presumably - seemed not to have heard the thud over the loud music.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed, watching Steve stand over his ex. “Nice hit.”

Steve blinked at his open hands. “I didn’t mean to punch him,” He said softly. “But I - he was going for you, so-”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder, “don’t sweat it. I think in this case, you did the right thing. Besides, he’ll be alright. Can’t imagine this is the first time he’s been clocked on the head.” He guided Steve back towards the staircase. 

“Do you think this place has CCTV?” Steve suddenly asked, facing Bucky with a worried expression. Bucky gave him a withering look. “This place doesn’t even have an elevator, Steve. Come on.”

But Steve wasn’t done yet; he pushed Bucky away with his forearm. “And why the _fuck_ do you have a gun?” He whispered venomously, as if he had just remembered it. Bucky held both hands aloft, gun still in his grip. “Force of habit.”

“Force of- what do you _do_ for a living? Secret forces? Military? Are you really a mob boss after all-”

“Fucking h- no,” Bucky lowered his hands gingerly. “It’s sort of...classified. The gun is a deterrent; you wouldn't believe how many lowlifes try to mug amputees."

“Where- where were you even keeping that?”

Bucky tried a smile. “If you keep up the flirting you might find out.”

“...”

Okay, Steve wasn’t in the mood. 

“Look, I used to work for the government.”

Steve was still suspicious. “Used to...So you have a licence for that?” He gestured to the gun. 

“...Yes.”

“In this country?”

“...Stop asking questions.”

“For God’s sake!” Steve turned to head down the stairs, making sure to stay a few steps ahead of Bucky. 

“Steve...Steve!”

When they reached the lobby, Steve stormed out. Bucky reached out a hand to grab his hoodie, but the blonde spun round. “Thank you for your help today,” He said, “but I can’t be around someone who threatens people, let alone someone who has an illegal _firearm_."

Bucky scoffed. "So scamming old people is fine, but you draw the line at firearms. That's not very American of you."

"Find your own way home.”

Even in the midst of his outburst, Bucky’s heart sank. He stayed put as Steve made his way to the car. He understood why Steve was upset. Maybe he would be, too, in his position. Despite that, he didn’t want him to go.

“It’s not loaded.”

Steve paused mid-step. Kept his back to him. 

Bucky approached, removing the magazine to show him that there was no ammo inside. 

“It’s not loaded,” He said again, softer this time. "Just for show. Most people only need a glimpse and they back off."

A long sigh escaped Steve’s lips. “I heard you the first time.” He turned around, looked at the handgun. “Still doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, but it’s an improvement.” Bucky tried to disarm him with another smile, and this one had more of a desired effect. Steve partially returned the gesture. Sensing he wasn’t going to get much further, Bucky relented. “If you could drop me at the station, I’d really appreciate it.”

Steve nodded, and they got back in the car. 

* * *

It was late afternoon, and the sun was in that annoying position where no matter where you looked, it managed to blind you. 

They entered the car park for the station and Steve parked up. Bucky opened his door. "Thank you. And... I'm sorry about before. It was nice to meet you." Understatement; it had been wonderful to meet him.

“Um.”

He hesitated. “Yes, Steve?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, fixated on the steering wheel. “If you...if you want, I know this place…”

“Vagueness is my thing. Are you asking me to dinner?”

“Not, um...it can be a late lunch. Or a very late brunch. It’s not fancy or anything.”

“You’re not selling me on it so far-”

“Are you hungry or not?” Steve met his gaze, but Bucky could tell he was amused. “I could go for a bite.”

* * *

“You know, I see why you undersold this place to me,” Bucky said between bites of his burger, “because it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the food is pretty good.” They were close to Steve’s house, so he’d parked the car at home and they had walked to the restaurant.

“Well apparently I’m attracted to shabby-looking things,” Steve quipped, sipping his water. 

Bucky had to grin. “Stop, I’m blushing.” Steve rolled his eyes, picking at the salad on his plate. “So, classified background, huh?” 

“Classified, redacted, censored, really any synonym works. You should know I was working with the good guys, though.”  
“Well I’d certainly hope that the government constitutes ‘good guys’.”

“Hm, well. Sorry I can’t tell you more. But I wouldn’t like to hazard the chances of them keeping track of you.” Steve’s hand froze, the fork halfway to his mouth. “Wait, earlier when you said that you had someone watching my ex, was that true?”

“No, no, that was a bluff. In my experience, that usually puts them off getting the authorities involved. I just mean...I’m technically on leave, but I know I won’t be of much use to them anymore. They keep tabs on me, but I consented to that when I took the job. So anyone in my life is probably also on the radar.” Steve frowned. “Like, they’ll know my search history? Or is it more...stalker-y?”

Bucky laughed. “I haven’t been around you long enough for them to notice, don’t worry. Your search history is safe. For now.” 

“Thank God.”

Bucky spoke over the rim of his glass. “That bad, huh? What is it, My Little Pony? Hentai?” He gasped. “Are you a furry?”

Steve looked baffled. “I don’t know what any of those words mean.”

“You’re missing out.”

“Just copious amounts of gay porn.” Bucky almost spat his drink across the table. He heard Steve giggle as he spluttered. “L-least you’re honest,” He managed eventually. “It was obvious, really. No man takes as many skimpy gym selfies as you without a certain audience in mind.”

He looked over and saw the other man’s cheeks dusted pink, as were the tips of his ears. Bucky was overcome with an urge to nibble his ear. Hell, he was overcome with many more urges than that. He made himself return to his meal. 

When they were done with pudding (a simple slice of Victoria sponge for Bucky, but of course the pre-diabetic sack of muscle next to him had to try the warm caramel fudge brownie), the conversation hadn’t regained its former energy. Nevertheless, the little changes didn’t escape Bucky’s notice - hands brushing as they passed the dessert menu, bumping shoulders while they ate, stolen glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

He really liked this man. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until the waiter came to give them the bill. Bucky insisted the meal was on him, and after a quick back-and-forth, Steve yielded. 

“See, you did end up getting some money from me,” Bucky teased, stashing his wallet. 

“It’s not the same if I don’t get to keep it.” 

Bucky rested his chin on his palm. “What now?”

Steve considered the question. He dipped a finger in the syrup on his empty plate, brought it to Bucky’s face. “You never got to try my dessert.”

_Lord please let that be a euphemism,_ Bucky thought. He swallowed, leaning forward and delicately licking the sweet substance off the man’s finger, gaze never breaking. He heard Steve curse under his breath as he pulled away. 

“It...it’s getting late,” He murmured. Bucky understood immediately. “It’s not even nine yet,” He commented as innocently as possible.

Steve placed one hand atop his, as discreetly as he could manage. “No, Bucky, it’s _getting late_ .”   
  


Bucky barked a laugh, startling the blonde. He leaned in, until there was only a few millimetres between their lips. “I told you I’m not about pretences. Do you want me, Steve Rogers?”

Steve’s eyelids fluttered. “ _Yes_.”

* * *

It didn’t take them long to reach Steve’s house, and it took them even less time to undress and ravish one another. It was, perhaps, the best sex Bucky had ever had. They lay there spent on the bed, spreadeagled, save for Bucky’s hand, which was intertwined with Steve’s. 

“...What a bizarre day,” Steve finally uttered, breaking the fragile silence. Both men chuckled, and Steve sat up to place a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“I have to say,” Steve whispered, “I’m surprised you haven’t asked to see any of the videos I made.”

Bucky frowned slightly, perplexed and amused. “It didn’t feel right to ask. Besides,” He shifted his body so that he could press a few butterfly kisses to Steve’s neck, eliciting a gentle moan from him, “I don’t need videos. I have the real thing.”


End file.
